The Fallen Are The Virtuous
by Hey Lady Hey
Summary: The fallen are the virtuous,and this is where Delois,a guard for Galbatorix,finds himself as he flees from both the Varden and the Empire with an unwanted dragon by his side.
1. Prolouge

The Fallen Are The Virtous

Prolouge

Rating: K

Summary: Oh, the fallen are the virtous, and this is where Delois, a guard for Galbatorix, finds himself as he flees from both the Varden and the Empire with an unwanted dragon by his side.

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I never _meant _to do that. It wasn't supposed too. I mean, who would work their way up through the army, to become a very much bound by oath Keeper of the Eggs, just to have it crack open when you touch it because it needed to be cleaned?

I never should have touched that egg. I should have ordered one of the damn servants too, because now I'm royally screwed. Past screwed. I just flushed my life down the toilet for touching a damn egg. Stupid dragons. God, I fucking hate dragons- Dragons, Galbatorix, and Eragon Shadeslayer. Because now, everyone's after me. I'm supposed to be on a side, I have to be black or white- There's no grey in war. It's either you're with them or you're with the other, and then still you're going to get a knife in your back.

I don't want them to go after me, and kill me, and hurt me. But I know I can't leave him here, so young and fragile. There's something wrong, I can tell, but I don't know if dragons speak or not and I'm just so _confused_.

I'm not naming him. No. I think it's a him, at least, but I wont, because if you name something, you own it.

I want nothing to do with it- All I want is to go back to my life as a well-fed keeper of stupid eggs that shouldn't hatch when someone as normal as me touches them.

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The dragon snuffled the ground, pressing his pointed snout against damp leaves. More feminine then what one would reckon a normal male dragon to be, he also held a pronounced serpentine look- The head was narrow and sleek, with a much less-pronounced brow then Murtagh's own dragon.

He raised his black head, a puff of dark smoke wafting from his slit-like nostrils as he started to walk towards the clearing his master was, tending the fire in the silence of a thinking man.

As still a young dragon, he was no more then at the other's shoulder, which was tall considering his young age.

The dragon snorted as to alert the other of his presence- The man merely tensed slightly as he curled up next to him, moving his head under a hand as to prompt the other for at least a quick scratch. With a weak smile, the other complied, stroking the dragon along the snout, gaining a throaty purr from the over-sized lizard.

"I told you," The man spoke softly, his voice sounding as if he had rubbed the throat raw with sandpaper. "_Eitha_, do you not understand? I have a limited vocabulary of the language but- As a dragon, are you not supposed to be wise in such things?"

The smokey grey eyes looked up at his own brown, and he wilted under the puppy-like stare. "You're big enough to go out on your own... Can't you talk?" The sudden question took the dragon by what seemed like surprise by the look it gave. He then gave an indignant snort, pushing his snout against the human with such force he fell over.

"I take that as a no... Except..."

_"Delois..."_

"Yes, you can say my name. I still want you too go- _Eitha_!" He removed the hand that was petting the dragon, taking a stick from the pile of kindling beside him and threw it into the dwindling fire. It gave a half-hearted pop.

The dragon gave what could only be called a sigh, standing and stretching before padding over to the bottom of a tree, moving a pile of leaves into a pile that grew into a makeshift bed. He plopped down, letting out a snort as he watched Delois poke the fire dully.

"Moving such a short distance away does not count, dragon, for leaving." He said, somewhat bitterly, looking up at the other. But he was already fast asleep. Delois sighed, rubbing his goatee thoughtfully before standing and walking over to his dragon- No, not his. Not yet his, and it never should be- laying against the other's flank.

The dragon stirred slightly as the other's blonde hair tickled his belly, but fell asleep just as quickly as the disturbance moved. Rider and dragon soon fell asleep.


	2. Dragons Be Damned

The Fallen Are The Virtous

Chapter One: Dragons be Damned

Rating: T, Mild Language

Summary: Oh, the fallen are the virtous, and this is where Delois, a guard for Galbatorix, finds himself as he flees from both the Varden and the Empire with an unwanted dragon by his side.

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A servant timidly approached the two guards- Both in their early twenties, Delois and his friend Jarn were dressed in the regal clothing their statuses permitted. They stopped the quiet talking, turning to the servant.

The servant was not even a man, being only 13, and quivered as the two superior guards looked at him. But he managed to swallow his fear and slight the knocking of his knees.

"Lunch, sirs, from the royal head cook, Agnes. Sh-she especially wanted me to give you this one, Sir Delois." He bowed quickly, handing them both small bundles of tanned leather before turning and flying down the corridors. Being caught bothering the Egg Keep Guards was something that meant death.

Delois grinned, sitting down and opening his back as Jarn did the same. He untied the knot that held the lunch together, highly surprised as a few grapes near rolled out. But what caught him off guard was the sandwich- Roast beef! He nearly laughed. He had been courting Agnes for months, and it pleased him to know she knew his favorite food by now.

Jarn grunted, looking at his own sandwich, which was mere lettuce, tomato, and a thin slice of cheese and meat. Stealing a glance at his partners, his jaw dropped.

"Delois! You and that girl... Hmmf. I'm your friend, can't you get me a good meal like you always get?" Jarn said, wrinkling his nose as he sniffed his sandwich. "I mean, you even get _fruit_, plus a good hunk of meat."

Delois laughed, his shaggy dirty blonde hair bouncing as he threw his head bag. His laughs were always like that of a lions. Of course, it was only in the presence in the friends- He was terribly timid around company or people he didn't know. "You'll have to get your own woman, Jarn, to cook something up, and it will never be half as good as whatever Agnes gets me."

He snorted. "Oh, yes, valiant you. You know I'm not good with the ladies." That was an understatement. Jarn was often cynical about little things that annoyed him,(Which was a lot of things) and he had no good looks to perhaps lure someone who just wanted a valiant royal guard. But Jarn was simply too demanding for his plain looks. 'Mud Child', he said he was often called as a child, for everything about him was the color of fresh mud- His skin, his hair, his eyes.

Delois took a large bite of his sandwich, ignoring the fact he looked as civil as a starving dog as he attacked his lunch, finishing it much quicker then Jarn. He was a definite military man at heart, and everything that wasn't fighting was done fast and efficient.

He stood, stretching languidly before leaning against the heavily locked doors of the Egg Keep, letting out a burp before taking the scimitar out of it's sheath and running the sharp blade down his hand. One would think him crazy- But the blade merely made green sparks jump from his hand. Galbatorix himself had infused them both with heavy defensive magic, enough that the one time they actually _did _get into a scuffle, not even their muscles ached afterward.

"Hey, Jarn, it's cleaning time." He said absent-mindedly, tossing the blade from one hand to the next before finally sheathing it. He then took up his pike as the man next to him stood.

"Aw, dammit, come on... I know King Galbatorix told me specifically to clean the eggs and such, but can't you do it?" He took a bite of his sandwich, continuing even as he began chewing. "You're much better at cleaning then I am." Delois scowled, leaning upon the pike. "What if you get fired?"

"We both have the same title. We do the same things- Could you do it, as a favor for me?"

"Promise I'll get a favor back."

Jarn cursed, but promised it in the few words of the ancient language they did know that wasn't purely offensive commands.

Delois let out one of his signature lion laughs before turning to the door, uttering the words of secrecy that made the latches come off. Slipping inside, he could hear the latches lock behind him as he walked down the sparsely furnished corridor. He had been into the Egg Keep Chamber, but it always made his pulse race and his breath quicken every time he came down. Realization dawned on him that he'd never touched any of the eggs before.

As he pushed the other door open, reveling in the fact that he was one of the few who ever could do this. Walking into the carpeted room, he gave a quick glance at his surroundings- Bookshelves lined with ages-old lore, magical items in a large trunk, a huge tapestry of a black wyrm- before having his eyes settle on the two eggs that settled on a red satin pillow.

One would think they were there for the picking- But Delois knew better. He walked over to the eggs, and before laying a finger on them, placed a hand on his heart, the other hovering two feet above the eggs.

_"May thee strike me down if I do harm to these dragons."_ He mumbled in the ancient language, before tentatively reaching down and picking up the first egg- It was an emerald in color, with veins of a dark shade of forest green. Gingerly cradling it in his arms, he pointed a finger at the egg. _"Adurna,"_ He could feel the odd sensation as the water was taken from the air, everywhere around him before it accumulated into a small blob, gathering slowly in size. _"Bl__öthr, reisa du adurna!" _The water ball stopped growing, holding itself in place as he commanded it. _"Jierda skulblaka."_ The blob of water fell onto the egg he held out, and with more commands of the ancient language, he efficiently was able to clean it of any dust or cobwebs it had gained.

It was in a matter of minutes before he had the other egg in his grasp. This egg was talked little about- It had said to have been around for longer then most could imagine, and had yet to open to anyone others touch or Galbatorix's magic. Most thought it dead, or perhaps retarded, but Delois cleaned the light black egg with the same care as the other.

It scared the shit out of him when he dropped the egg on the pillow, only to have it crack open.

The birthing of the dragon was not what he expected- The dragon broke through the shell with haste and ease, ivory claws swiping the shells and thin membrane that held it together. It then proceeded to lick the egg-membrane that covered it's thin body, stretching it's wings, then turning it's smokey eyes upon Delois.

He quickly emptied the wonderful roast beef he had eaten onto the carpet, his stomach clenching so harshly he thought it was doubling in upon itself. Everything before his eyes was becoming fuzzy, but the soldier grasped onto consciousness and held it tightly.

"My life is gone." He whispered, his voice rough with emotion as he looked at the dragon, whom had now crept gracefully from it's perch. It's body seemed too thin, too snake-like; And even though it look feminine, Delois could not deny it was a male dragon.

The thing came towards him, pressing it's snout against his bare forearm. Once again, pain and emotion shot through him, making his breath come out in ragged gulps as he clung tightly to the fraying thread that was consciousness. Then it was over, and the dragon crooked a brow at him, but made no other move then to dig it's claws into his skin and scrabble up onto his plated shoulders.

Delois stood, and the dragon kept perfect balance on his shoulder. He stumbled towards the door, wiping the vomit from his mouth and beard. He needed to get out of here- In this surge of emotions, he knew that the two human instincts would always apply, and flight was what he would take.

"Jarn!"


	3. Let's Fade Together

The Fallen Are The Virtuous

Chapter One: Let's Fade Together

Rating: T, Mild Language

Summary: Oh, the fallen are the virtuous, and this is where Delois, a guard for Galbatorix, finds himself as he flees from both the Varden and the Empire with an unwanted dragon by his side.

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Jarn turned a deathly shade of pale, then green, the flushed red all at once. "Delois... By Galbatorix's will, what did you _do_?"

Delois felt a the sob that escaped his mouth rattle his ribs. Men didn't cry- But men didn't have dragons. But did Riders cry...?

"I touched it, Jarn! I swear, I swear..." He then repeated his words in forced words of the ancient language. The other man seemed to teeter to one side, as if he might just fall right over. "Delois, you need to go... Stuff that beast into your knapsack, and come with me."

He stared hard at the dragon- And it skittered into his knapsack with no complaint, but watching the dragon, he suddenly felt something press against his mind, like a cat rubbing against his leg- Encouraging warmth. But then it was gone, replaced with a nothingness so quickly it startled his already fragile mind.

"Y-yes... Let's go..."

The two walked down the hallway, passing everyone by easily. All knew by the broaches that held their cloaks showed their high position, and nobody dare hinder their movement in fear of consequences given by Galbatorix himself. By the time they were nearly there, Delois realized they were heading towards the main kitchen.

The first person he saw was Agnes- A plump, broad-shouldered woman with ruddy features and bright eyes, she was barking orders to the younger cooks and apprentices, making the whole place seem very much like a boot camp as everyone ran to and fro, carrying wood, taking meat from the rack house, getting water to boil. She turned towards them, ready to scold a cook who had spilt some kind of sauce, but they had caught her eyes first, and she lit up immediately.

"Delois! How are you, my lion?" She asked, pushing her way through the hubbub that was her kitchen and ushering them both out into the hallway. Placing a peck on his cheek that made him feel warm and giddy, she drew back from them both, scrutinizing with calculation. "Isn't this odd for you two, to visit me at the same time... Was lunch not fit for you noble guards? I did try my best-"

"No, love, my Agnes, it was wonderful." Delois had meant the words to come out in a placating, calm tone, but then rushed from his mouth in a half-sob. Her eyes showing her bewilderment, she clasped his hands in her own. "What's wrong...?"

"He opened an egg, Agnes, you stupid-" Jarn stopped his snapping comment in full throttle, swallowing thickly before continuing more calmly, "He touched an egg, and a dragon came out. The one that's supposedly retarded."

Delois felt something equivalent to protest scratch at his mind, but like a hand batting at a fly, it was pushed aside at the same time Agnes clutched at her heart, looking as if she was to fall over in a heap on the stone masonry below. "You two... Must need food, right?"

"Only for one, Agnes." Jarn said dryly. She nodded quickly bolting into the kitchen. Delois crumpled to the ground, nursing his head in his hands as he closed his eyes. He could feel the heat of the dragon's body pressed against his back, it's maw nudging against the fabric that was closest against his back and try to bite into it, the little fangs scraping over but thankfully not puncturing.

The Head Cook finally came out after what felt like ages, clutching a large bundle to her bosom. "This should suffice for a month, Delois... Dried meats, bread, some dried fruit; I even was able to nab a few pickled cucumbers, I know how you love those, and sweetmeats..." Her voice was wavering as she said the words, and by the end, a tear had rolled down her reddened cheek.

Delois stood, kissing her cheek. "Agnes... We could... We could go. We could fade together." The words were so hopeful, but even he knew they were filled with promises of hardship and the remembrance of his own stupidity. Something- What, by now, he had concluded as the dragon, had different opinions, thoughts of happiness at the prospect of having someone come with them.

"I can't. You... You know that." She whispered, and another tear ran down her face, the water leaving a wet line down her face. He brushed it away, before kissing her once more, upon the lips. They were not married; They weren't even engaged, and this was preposterous, but..

"Jarn, for me- As that favor- Make sure Agnes is taken care of. I'll come back soon, you two." He managed a force smile. "It wont be long. Just an overgrown lizard, right?"

He let out a cry as the fang broke through the knapsack, somehow going through the defenses Galbatorix had put around his body and puncturing the skin. The dragon quickly removed itself from the wound, licking it in a placating tone.

Delois left, with food and dragon in his knapsack, the clothes on his back, a pike as a walking stick, and a scimitar strapped to his side.

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Sweat beaded on Jarn's forehead. He swallowed nervously, his adam's apple bobbing wildly. "I h-have no idea what you're talking about. Delois just ran off, that... Damn dirty coward, right with the egg!" The last part was a true snarl. Jarn was hateful at him. For putting them all in damn danger for a stupid dragon that was supposedly a still birth in the egg. _Why_ hadn't Delois himself killed the little beast?

Why hadn't he?

It was a thought he gave little more attention to as Galbatorix walked towards him, slowly, his eyes burning into the other. Galbatorix stalked towards the smaller man- A beast cornering a deer, the much more powerful and intimidating man smirking as Jarn quickly fell to his knees, bowing his head.

"Have mercy, mighty King Galbatorix." He sobbed, his body shaking. Stupid- So stupid, he should have killed the dragon, killed Delois-

"Oh, I will, you stupid, stupid guard." He said smoothly. His voice was deep- One would say any woman's dream, but it held an air of falsity, as if only the immense amount of magic that he controlled kept him young, and beautiful in a haunting, perverse way. "I take pity on those that can be of use- And you will be great of great use. Stand." Jarn stood, clenching and unclenching his hands in an attempt to stop the shaking that was coursing through his body.

He was so fervently thanking all the gods of any existence that he didn't notice Galbatorix was mumbling in the ancient language.

Jarn look up in time to see a large shadow with a haunting face smother him in blackness.

Lorne flexed his fingers, watching as the color of his skin took on spidery patterns of white over his dark-skinned arms. He smiled, pleased at how well the transformation was going. He had heard most of the spirits never usually got the look that pleased him, but Galbatorix had chose well. He sneezed as his nose flexed itself to a longer, more-hawk like look of Jarn's broad one; Eyes watered as they turned to a startling white.

He chuckled absentmindedly as all the hair that was atop his head fell right out, regrowing into the black, greasy strands that was Lorne's. It was so nice, finally moving from a not-quite-there ethereal body to a body made of substance.

"Dear Galbatorix," Lorne bowed gracefully, straightening as he looked the King in the eye. One of the only people in the world who would smile in amusement at a shade. "Lorne at your service."

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PLOT TWIST! -evil cackle- Merf, I'm done now. Please R&R, and while you're at it, read my other stories. Toodles.


	4. Scars

The Fallen Are The Virtuous

Chapter Two: Scars

Rating: T, Mild Language, a tiiiiiiny bit of gore

Summary: Oh, the fallen are the virtuous, and this is where Delois, a guard for Galbatorix, finds himself as he flees from both the Varden and the Empire with an unwanted dragon by his side.

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**OMFGWTF**

**I was the featured story on shuturgal(dot)fanfiction(dot)net, a Eragon fanfic site. Holy poopsicles on a stick. That's pretty good. Well... Eh, I present you chapter two, Scars. Please review, also. EVEN IF YOU'RE NOT APART OF REVIEW!**

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"... It's all your fault." He spoke softly, knowing the dragon would not respond. He kept it up, though, his voice rising sharply. "Why me! This isn't what I wanted! A fucking dragon... My life was so perfect, you awful..."

The dragon pushed it's maw against the shallow of his back. The thin, black thing was still in his knapsack; They had just barely gotten out of Ura'Baen, and he did not entirely trust how quiet Jarn could keep quiet for any amount of time. Galbatorix could already be looking ruthlessly for him and the dragon.

"Well..." He mumbled, his voice lowering as the dragon nuzzled against his back. "We'll go to Helgrind; The city of The Prayer." Nobody- of course, other then those who followed the religion- knew the exact name of the forboding practice, but many spoke ill about it and the city itself. Delois merely placed his hand over the broach that signified himself a guard and much respected of Galbatorix, offering a quick prayer to any god that would hear him before swinging his knapsack off.

He had expected a cry of surprise or protest from the baby dragon, but all he got was a glare before the hatchling jumped up, nimbly catching itself with weak wings. It beat franticly before landing on his shoulder, claws clutching tightly to their perch. He sighed, replacing the knapsack on his back.

"You will come with me, but you musn't shriek or shout. If you get caught..." The black dragon seem to bristle, it's haunches rising. Delois looked at the queer creature, then said absent-mindedly; "You don't look like Thorn nor Shrukian."

Indeed, he didn't. Now that Delois had a good look at his partner, the dragon seemed to be more serpentine then anything, with curling horns pressed against it's head and slitted nostrils. It looked bone-thin, to the point of being underfed and malnourused. It's black scales were dull, and the only thing that seemed to sparkle were it's grey eyes.

He touched a protruding rib bone, frowning grimly. "Magic does many things..." He mumbled, before speaking a few quick words in the ancient language. An apple came floating from his pack. He handed it to the dragon, who immedetly took it in it's front paws and started chewing on it.

"Try not to get anythin-"

Something hard hit him in the shoulder, making him sprawl out on the ground. He swiftly turned around, clambering for his scimitar as a Ra'Zac hissed softly.

"Damnit," He stood quickly, brandishing the scimitar defiantly in front of him, snapping a quick command. The pike he was using as a walking stick came quickly into his other hand. It was not the perfect combination of weapons- Parrying was near impossible, but that did not come into mind as the cloaked being rushed in suddenly.

Delois gave a wild stab forward at the creature, but it easily dodged the awkward blow, going left and quickly gaining in on him. With a surprised cry, he took a feint with the blade to the right, then suddenly jerked it to the left, following with a downward thrust of his pike. The Ra'Zac had to jump to avoid getting it's legs peirced- Exactly what he wanted. The blade suddenly snapped from going a little-off left to the Ra'Zac, scraping against the etheral creature's side as it twisted desperately away from the blade.

It screeched, holding the wound in it's side. A thick, black liquid seeped from the shallow wound. A hiss escaped the Ra'Zac before it uttered something in it's gutteral, clicking tongue. A long, black sword appeared in it's hand, and the beast stalked forward. Delois stumbled backward, swallowing thickly.

"Dragon!"

He had just realized the hatchling had fallen from his shoulder when he got hit. But this was not the time to worry about it; The Ra'Zac swung the sword at his head, and he just barely brought his scimitar up for a parry. The grip on his sword nearly faltered as his arm tingled from the force it took to fend off the greatsword's blow. This wasn't good.

Then the Ra'Zac uttered something else in it's gutteral tongue, and Delois felt his muscles tense, locking in upon themselves. He let out a cry, then frowned in puzzled dismay. The beast had let his face loose! But why...?

As the evil thing approached, he paled. Only to hear him scream, obviously. The Ra'Zac hissed mavolently, getting within inches of the other. His whole body would have trembled in fear if possible, but he could not move an inch. Gently, very gently, the Ra'Zac let it's sword scrape against his throat.

A scream came from Delois as it suddenly burrowed down, then it turned into a gurgle as the sword was removed. With cunning and precision possessed only of a Ra'Zac, he could feel his throat burn with blood that spilt from his cut vochal chords. He tried to speak, but it came out as a wet, painful gurgle that made tears spring from his eyes.

The thing made a sound that was it's laugh, making Delois grimace. He tried to mumble a spell- Until the cold steel of the black blade was pressed against his cheast, the point slowly digging in. A gurgled cry escaped his lips, and he started to try futily to thrash out of this hold.

Suddenly, he felt himself loosen, and the Ra'Zac jumped back, hissing. Over his head, his dragon flew, shreiking dryly, it's voice rough and harsh. He shuddered, and despite his pain stood, brandishing his scimitar. There was no need, though, as the dragon shreiked again, it's eyes blazing in anger.

As if almost from nowhere, the Ra'Zac let out a clacking call of pain, stumbling backward. It quickly fled, and the dragon flew towards Delois.

Delois tried to utter a thankful word, but the words caught in his destroyed throat painfully, coming out in a muffled gurgle. The dragon brushed against his mind- A feeling of command that made him quickly stop and sit. With a snort, the dragon then landed upon his chest, laying a head on the man's shaking body.

He would have gasped if he hadn't held it down for fear of bringing himself more pain, but the sensation as his vochal chords neatly started to thread themselves together, skin and blood connecting once more and returning to their rightful places. It was wonderful, and he gave a little sigh, reveling in the feeling of the new organs vibrating, producing sounds almost as good as normal-

And then it stopped, the little dragon giving a croak of distress. It jumped off of Delois, crawling into the knapsack that had fallen off his back and promptly falling asleep.

"Dragon?" He was horrified by his words; They came out as if his throat had been scratched with sandpaper, giving him a twinge of pain in his neck, then a burning sensation as if he needed water. He pushed away the pain, numbly struggling to sheath his scimitar before slinging his knapsack over his shoulders. Taking his pike, he started to walk down the road, testing his new voice, wincing before long as it started to bleed anew. He'd always begin again, though, taking a swig of ice-cold water from a stream to stil the blood flow before continuing once more with gritty sounding words and croaks of pain.

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Lyrnn laughed, watching as the Ra'Zac flew from the hatchling. "Petty creatures. They never were as strong as everyone always says."

Galbatorix snorted indignantly. "You, shade, do not know the power of that dragon."

Lyrnn raised a thin black eyebrow. "Oh?"

The king moved forward, looking into the scrying bowl. He snuffed it out just as the hatchling crawled into a knapsack after what looked like healing it's new rider. "I've been trying to get that damn dragon out sence... A long time. I found the egg, back when it was a pure white in color. But after so many years-"

"Dragon eggs can't go _bad_. And even with magic to influence it, that's just-"

The heavy hand that fell onto his shoulder silenced the shade, making him tense. "You're right, in some sense, Lyrnn," He said quietly. "But do not interupt me again. Magic can change it, but only if the creature wants it." He smiled thinly, letting the words sink in as Lyrnn pondered in amazement. A naturally born _evil_ dragon? That can't be. But of course, the land of Algaesia was changing rapidly over the years. Anything is possible.

"So... You say this dragon chose to embrace your powers?" He asked slowly, choosing his words carefully. Galbatorix snorted. "Yes, and maybe too much."

Lyrnn waited for the Tyrant to continue- But was only met with dissapointing silence. He exscused himself with a mumble, standing from his chair and walking briskly towards the door.

His legs locked suddenly. A snarl of rage twisted his thin lips, but he said nothing as Galbatorix spoke; "Be careful, shade; You are cocky, and rightly so, but I don't want to have another Shadeslayer on my hands. I must admit, Durza was weak, more intrested in sharpening his fangs then practicing, but while the Guard is weak, the dragon is strong." His legs went suddenly limp, and he fell to his knees, scrambling upward quickly. "I will... Heed your warning, O Galbatorix." Lyrnn said before walking out the door.

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"Eitha, you stupid thing! EITHA!" Delois roared, near hitting the small hatchling that was flying around. His voice was already hoarse beyond belief, and he could feel his half-healed vochal chords bleeding. "Go! Eitha!"

He had been thinking. Walking, and thinking. And a sudden, over-whelming anger had came to him, all directed at the dragon, who was now screeching just as hoarsly as it's owner.

Delois had never felt so _unstable_, so wounded. Physically and mentally, he felt as helpless as a newborn babe. With a half-hearted slap, he managed to clip the dragon's wings. It cried in surprise, forcing the emotion of panic onto him; And a word:

_'Delois!'_

The man stopped, blinking back threatening tears. He stooped low, grabbing his knapsack before staring at the thin dragon flying in circles for at least a minute. The black little hatchling kept eye contact, hovering in place with a steady beating of his wings.

"You said my name..." He mumbled, face aghast.

_'... Delois?... Eitha.'_

"You want me to go?"

The dragon blinked at him, as if it was so obvious. _'Delois, Eitha.'_

It had struck him then that the dragon was reffering to himself. He was Eitha. "Eitha... B-but, no-" His words came out in a splutter. "Your name is not Eitha! That's just stupid. It's a word... Well," He paused, then sighed softly. "I can't say much, can I? My loony mother named me after dirt."

_'Eitha.'_

"Fine, you are Eitha- I'll call you that, for no other reason then for the fact that I would not be able to call you in public." Delois said, waving his hand dismissivly at the hatchling. The newly dubbed Eitha landed on his shoulder, perching easily. Fishing out a canteen of water as the two started walking, he drowned his tender throat in ice cold water.

"Can't you heal it anymore?"

_'Delois.' _The word was met with a sharp prescence in his mind, making him stumble in his steps. He took that as a no.

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Oooh, plot hanger. Please TELL ME what you want to see. I do have some options...

1)They go to Helgrind and something with the ominous religion of the dank place is involved.

2) Something changes their course , and they either meet a) Eragon or b) Murtagh

Just tell me in the reviews if you'd rather see 1, 2a or 2b. You can decide Delois and Eitha's wyrda. ;)


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